someone to watch o'er me
by professortennant
Summary: This was not Jean's first assignment. She had been an angel for tens of thousand years and had watched over hundreds of human lives: guiding them, protecting them, guarding them. Lucien Blake would be no different.


_a guardian angel AU_

This was not Jean's first assignment. She had been an angel-a _seraphim_ , specifically-for tens of thousand years and had watched over hundreds of human lives: guiding them, protecting them, guarding them.

However, this was her first assignment that had been handed down to her by an archangel. Archangel Munro was the strictest archangel in her garrison and he had selected her, personally, for this task. Munro handed her the assignment with a cold smile. "We're going to be watching you very closely on this one, Seraphim Jean."

With a _whoosh_ of wings, Munro had left her to look over her future assignment, effective immediately. The scroll itself glowed with an angelic heat and even the parchment felt weighted in her hands.

She skimmed over the details of the assignment: a man in his mid-forties, former soldier, a doctor, a man with a good (if troubled) heart. _Lucien Blake_.

* * *

Most humans had a reason to be guided and guarded. Those with particularly dark pasts-or futures-often acquired a guardian angel at some point in their lives. Sometimes those with knotted, gnarled, and uncertain futures also earned themselves an angel.

The parchment outlined this Lucien's past-POW camp, a lost wife and child, a dead father and mother-and, Jean noticed with shock, his future also was uncertain. There was a fork at some point in Lucien's future: one led towards bright, shining light and the other led to a mass of dark blotched.

Rolling up the parchment and tucking it into her robe, Jean thought with a determined flutter of her wings, that she would do everything in her power to lead Lucien Blake to the light.

* * *

Munro had established her cover already: a housekeeper. Apparently Lucien Blake was indifferent to her actual qualifications (nonexistent) and simply eager to hire a warm body to do the cleaning and put some form of a meal on the table.

While the thought of cleaning the human way made her wrinkle her nose in distaste, Jean had always enjoyed the meticulousness of cooking. Her senses were naturally heightened as an angel and, though she didn't hunger, the taste of food brought her one of her only pleasures in life.

Ensuring her wings were tucked firmly against her body and in a celestial plan that humans couldn't see, Jean knocked briskly on the door, ready to meet her human.

The man who opened the door was not what she was expecting.

He was tall, shoulders impossibly wide, and arms bulging against the fabric of his button down. A neatly trimmed salt 'n' pepper beard graced his face and Jean thought she could see the ends of his hair curling (despite the amount of gel he had obviously used to tame them).

Looking closely at him, Jean was surprised to see that his soul's light was guarded from her. She had never met a human whose light she could not see.

But her favorite-and most surprising-part about him was his eyes: a stunning, beautiful blue.

She smiled brightly at him and stuck her hand out, "Hello, Dr. Blake. I'm Jean Beazley, your new housekeeper."

He took her hand and Jean's wings gave a little flutter at the contact. Her eye's widened in surprise. Her wings had never reacted viscerally to a human's touch before. She must be out of practice.

"Yes, of course, Mrs. Beazley. Please, please come in. May I get your bags?"

She stepped aside and watched as he leaned down to collect her things and carry them inside. Following him inside the house, Jean looked around, curious.

The house was very dark and smelled a little musty. She wondered when the last time this house had seen sunlight. A sunroom filled with wilting and decaying flowers was to her right and ahead of her was obviously the doctor's surgery. The house definitely needed a good clean and a bit of life brought back to it. Perhaps she was here to find the doctor a woman to bring some light back into his life. It was something to ponder, at least.

Dr. Blake dropped her bags off inside a small, spare room. He looked too big for the room and Jean wondered if he had ever been in here. "Well, Mrs. Beazley-"

She interrupted him. "It's Jean, please."

He nodded, obligingly. "Then please call me Lucien." He looked around. "Now, Jean, you can do as you like in this room-decorate it, put your things up, whatever it is you women do with a new room."

She arched an eyebrow. "Yes, we women are mysteries."

He seemed taken aback at her response and she thought she saw a hint of a smile twitch at his lips. "Yes, mysteries. Mysteries! Speaking of, I am late to a crime scene. I help the police here and there," he explained.

She nodded and looked at him expectantly. He rubbed his hands together then rested them on the pockets of his waistcoat before dropping them to his side. "Well then, I'll just be going. When you're done settling in, perhaps you could start cleaning up a bit? Just make yourself at home!"

And with that Lucien Blake walked out the door, leaving his guardian angel behind.

* * *

The house-as she suspected-was dark and musty throughout. She met a young woman named Mattie on her way downstairs. Jean loved her immediately-seeing the light of her soul shining brightly. Mattie had greeted her with a bright smile and informed her she was a boarder at the Blake residence temporarily.

She had shown Jean the few cleaning supplies the doctor kept in the house and promised she would be home in time for dinner.

Jean set to work, opening the curtains and blinds in every room and allowing the sunlight to pour in. She dusted and vacuumed and rinsed dishes.

It had been hours since Lucien had left and Jean was starting to get worried. Maybe she should try to find him? What if he was in trouble? What if she lost her assignment on her first day? Munro would kill her-metaphorically, that is.

 _One more room, then go look for him_.

A plan in place, Jean headed for the doctor's study, wastebasket in hand. Creaking the door open, Jean was assaulted with the scent of booze. Glass bottles littered the top of his desk and there was even a bottle or two on the floor by his chair. Shocked and confused, Jean collected the bottles and deposited them in the wastebasket.

Was this the dark path she was sent to protect him from?

"Can I help you?"

Popping up from behind the desk, arms still full of glass bottles, Jean looked at the owner of the voice. _Lucien_.

"I was just, er, cleaning up your desk." She raised the bottles and then with a loud _clink_ dropped them into the trash.

Lucien looked down smiling, unashamed. "There aren't many consolations in life, Jean." Another boyish smile aimed at her that caused a flutter of wings. She really needed to get that under control. "Good whiskey happens to be one of them."

"Right, well," she nodded at the overflowing collection of bottles. "There seems to be an awful lot of consolation here."

Breezing past him and enjoying the look of shock on his face, Jean headed back for the kitchen, calling out over her shoulder, "Dinner is on in a few hours."

A picture of Lucien Blake's life was forming and she was starting to realize she had her work cut out for her.

* * *

But Lucien did not attend dinner. Nor did he come home for pudding. Or after-dinner drinks. Jean was used to keeping thorough tabs on her charges and Lucien's erratic schedule-especially on their first day together-was proving to be an adjustment for her.

She lay in bed after an evening spent cooking and cleaning with Mattie. Jean truly adored her and made a note to not only send up a prayer for her, but find out if there was a seraphim attached to Mattie. She certainly deserved one.

Closing her eyes, Jean was just beginning her nightly prayers, when a loud _bang_ sounded from downstairs followed by a rather irritated, "Bloody hell!"

Sighing to herself, Jean promised to go check on him after her nightly prayers. Rising from her knees, she slid the warm, pink robe and tiptoed downstairs, looking around for her charge.

Catching sight of the light spilling out into the hallway, Jean headed for Lucien's study for the second time that day.

Pushing the door open, Jean sighed at the sight before her. Another empty whiskey bottle lay on the floor next to an overturn tumbler. And there, on the study's couch, was her charge: passed out drunk, reeking of alcohol, and twitching ferociously in his sleep.

Lucien's head thrashed from side to side and Jean heard his cries of, "No, please!" like a stab to the heart. Jean called out to him softly, knowing she should get him awake and off the couch and into a bed at least.

But Lucien couldn't be awoken, too embroiled in his nightmare. And it was a nightmare, no doubt about that.

Making the best of of a terrible situation, Jean began to gently untie the doctor's shoes, slipping them off and placing them beside his passed out form. While she could easily lift him with her pinky finger, she couldn't move him without arising suspicion. How could she explain to him how he passed out in his study and awoke in his bed?

Lucien continued to twitch and groan in his sleep and Jean realized she was being derelict in her duties as his guardian angel. One, tiny use of angelic power wouldn't go amiss, not when her charge so desperately needed it.

She smoothed a hand over his head and closed her eyes, channelling every drop of calming, protective power she had within her towards this man.

Instantly, his twitching stopped, his whimpers eased, and he attempted to push his head up into her touch. Smiling softly, she pushed his curling hair off his forehead. "Sleep, Lucien. Sleep."

Collecting the empty tumbler and bottle, Jean left her charge passed out on the couch behind her.

What had she gotten herself into?


End file.
